


Wolf Creek

by BestWishes1986



Category: Original fic, Original works of fiction, Vampires - Fandom, gay supernatural, paranormal romance - Fandom, werewolves - Fandom, witches - Fandom
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gay Sex, Half Vampires, M/M, Multi, Other, Vampires, Werewolf, Witches, gay werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestWishes1986/pseuds/BestWishes1986
Summary: In a town in upstate Washington that acts as a haven for the supernatural creatures hiding in human form. An evil is growing, murdering different races children to sow seeds of doubt and paranoia to end a peace that’s lasted centuries.Fighting to stop it is David Donnelly, a beta werewolf police deputy and his squad of werewolves. As they race against time to keep the tensions from escalating. David finds himself drawn to Jon Redding, a witch who’s keeping secrets. With Jon at the top of the suspect list though...they both are.—- this is an original work of fiction inspired by paranormal romance, Teen Wolf and the world we live in. Hope you like itJon is inspired by Cody ChristianDavid is inspired by Tyler PoseyDresha is inspired by Evan Rachel Wood
Relationships: Jon/David Prem/Vincent Hadley/Blink





	1. The Hunger and The Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Witch wanders through office jobs unaware something dark watches from the shadows. Watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

In life people work on scheduled moments that allow them a sense of peace. That peace is something they don't think about as they go through their days. The delicious cup of coffee with sugar and creme in the morning filling them with dreamed up energy to get through the first half. The lunch hour during a work day to allow their minds to focus on the millions of things appearing on the dozens upon dozens of colorful social media apps on their smartphones. Plans after work giving them the motivation to live through a thankless bosses venting of heinous statements. All these moments together create a peace that carries a person through the endless procession of days. If a person were to look at their lives this way they could maybe, imagine a string of pearls tied together by the hours of their lives In between one peaceful moment to the next. What if the string tying those moments together was pulled out from the pearls. Each bead of peace would fall to the ground and slide away from each other leaving that person in a state of unrest, a shattered peace.

It started with a whisper on a cool summer breeze as twenty two year old Dresha Martin walked down Saint. St in the bustling downtown area of Seattle. The words were soft, unintelligible to her as she walked on to work. But she had paused, turned to look back at the dozens of pedestrians behind her. Seeing no one taking in an interest in her she carried on. 

Gleaming skyscrapers towered over the pedestrians like Greek Gods standing proud. Hundreds of people worked day in and day out inside them.  
Their jobs secure by nepotism and merit from hard work and she a temp at one of the many dot com businesses. Unlike her family she didn't mind being a temp, she romanticized it to being a ghost. She was present at every meeting, her banging body dressed in thrift store clothes she cut, sewed, remade into hip dresses and blouses that people marveled over. Dresha had an eye for fashion and a quick wit that allowed her to create elaborate lies about herself. Her hair one day was a deep violet, the next a dark crimson red that complimented her pale skin and bright green eyes.

"You have to give me your stylists number," her boss of that week would say and Dresha would smile and nod confidently without saying a word. 

Her eyes on the woman's watching her acceptance of Dresha's body language but never did Dresha verbally commit to anything. Together they would look at the women with their full time jobs. They would compare their beauty to the others mundane faces and demure gray pant suits. Dresha was never surprised when the boss of that week would say something dismissive of them. Something rude that none of the girls or women who worked so hard to look and appear like they belonged in the room would hear. It was those remarks that made Dresha never want to be hired into jobs he temped at. It was human of her bosses to believe that sharing the moment of cutting someone down solidified a bond between the two of them. Dresha never felt that connection with her bosses, she would watch them. Taking cues from their bodies on how she should act.

So she never went to bars with the others, she sat at a cubicle she as assured was hers if she wanted and worked. Her work was flawless, whether it was data entry or programming. Her fingers flew over the keys, her eyes trained on the lines of code flowing from her keystrokes. 

Sometimes men stood beside her seat talking at her but never with her. She never talked back at all, she didn't want any form of emotional connection to these men who spent hours in gyms. Dressed in Hugo Boss suits, smelled like the inside of clothing stores and always had an invisline somewhere close by. It wasn't that she had no interest in them, often they looked like men who offered good lives, or good sex she couldn't be sure. On her lunch breaks, as she ate her Greek Yogurt with granola and fruit she would think about their smiles, the dimples, that nice beard, or a bulge or butt.  
Dresha would have on a pair of bright pink Beats over ear headphones and spoon her yogurt and imagine what it would be like to stand at a punk concert with these men. She would let the rapid fire drumming and angular guitar fill her body with a power only music could give. 

She would taste the bitter sweet taste of the yogurt and granola and fruit while her dreamed up self would be in a smoky club. The club would be packed with hipsters with faces she saw on streets or at Whole Foods. Ted, the small Middle Eastern man with gorgeous dark eyes who always wore ties wrong was beside her swinging his arms, she would head bang and scream her fury into the maelstrom of bodies and sound. Then the song would end and she would turn off the music and head back to her borrowed cubicle. This was her life. These 10 hour days, five days a week. She would walk to the bus, her eyes on every hobo, every person close to her as she walked. On the bus she would sit as close to the bus driver as possible with her dark brown leather bag clutched to her chest.

Only on paydays did she buy a new album off Amazon, wait for it to arrive and once the record was on the turntable she would sit with her cats on her floor next to her iKEA bought couch. She bought it for the rare occasions she had guests of any kind over. She preferred the hardwood floor of her studio apartment, if she were honest the couch belonged to her three black cats Zoe, Mordecai, and Felix. They laid around her while Grizzly Bear filled the small space with all over the place guitar and bass and that steady drum beat. Ed Droste"s soulful deep voice made her soul dance inside her skin and bone. It was a Sunday, the album "Painted Ruins" was spinning on the turntable. 

Dresha lay on the cool hardwood, dressed in only a pair of green boys underwear that fit her large hips perfectly. A half smoked joint had gone out in a vanilla candle she had been using as an ashtray. Her large voluptuous breasts rose and fell as she breathed deep breaths. She had smoked too much on an empty stomach, her body felt numb and overly sensitive at the same time. It was like she was in a warm bath but was dry in the water all the same.

The feeling was a rolling sensation, she was conscious of her blood moving through her veins, of the stillness of her body. The mere turning of her head to the left felt like she was falling slowly through the floor of her apartment in slow motion. A soft childish giggle escaped her lips at the feeling of heaviness as the music burst into a loud den of sounds and voices that made her think of Animal Collective. 

While she was thinking of the different sounds playing and raging with her high, the chipped white painted latch on the window turned of it's own accord. She laughed as she masochistically shook her head from side to side, the feeling of her body being thrown from side to side made her nauseous and giddy at the same time. The window pane slowly slid up the seal until the window was open. A breeze of cold air snaked its way into the post modern apartment and run first over her small tattooed feet. Then it moved up her slender, smooth legs like hands caressing her skin as a lover would. Dresha rolled onto her back as the breeze continued up to her breasts. The chill tightening over her chest and circling her head stealing her breath. Her blue hair whipped around her like snakes in a state of panic and fury. 

Dresha's mind took longer to feel the wrongness of the situation. She couldn't grasp the concept of sentient wind, the dryness of her mouth was painful. Her lips opened in a perfect O as she tried in vain to draw in oxygen but the air whipped past her stealing all she could have breathed, all she could think about was that she was going to die. She could feel her heart slamming against her chest painfully. It felt as if it would burst with her panic as fast it was beating. The organ was like a humming bird in the cage of her ribs. Her lungs burned as if on fire with the need for oxygen. She made a fist, her nails digging into her palms, a silent scream rose up in her chest, rushed up her throat and up into the air stolen by that same wind. 

As suddenly as the wind came it was gone. Dresha sat up gasping for air, her mouth open as she greedily gasped for air. Her blue hair hung around her in tendrils, she swiped it back from her wet eyes as she tried in vain to comprehend what happened. Raised as a Witch since birth, she had been raised to identify all forms of Magic, to feel their energies and understand their intent/ As tears from the dangerous air fell down her cheeks and into her dimples the feeling of pure malice prickled across her skin raising goosebumps on her thin forearms. Someone had intended to torture her with their wind magic.

Rising from the ground, she ran across the hardwood floor to the direction she had felt the breeze blow in from and stood bare foot and bare chested in her kitchen. The open window caused the soft gauzy white curtains to billow and sway before her. The sight mocked her, someone had opened it from the outside in spite of the lock she rarely ever turned. That same someone had used invisible hands to raise it and allow that murderous gale in to what end? 

Remembering her nudity she walked away from the window before the teen boys next door saw more of her than she ever wanted. The soft plod of her bare feet on the floor calmed her as she held herself tight and moved down the short bare hallway into her bedroom.

The room looked like one a teenage girl would have instead of a twenty two year old woman. Posters of 1980's slasher films were tacked to the walls, a bright pink stereo she had had imported from Japan sat on her bookshelf that was filled with historical romance novels. An old fashioned chest of drawers stood taking op a fourth of the room open with different blouses and stockings hanging from open drawers. 

Discarded clothes and open spell books lay on many surfaces, it hadn't been the wind that had done this. It was just her way of living, at temp jobs she was prim and proper and well organized. Her home was a temple to her youthful chaos. Sliding a three size too big BTS touring shirt from the "Love Yourself" tour over her thin frame she heard the sound of Halsey's "Without Me" play the chorus from among her bed sheets. After a few moments of digging she found her lime green Iphone 11 and saw her mother's image on the caller ID.

Grimacing internally she swiped left and put the large phone to her ear and before she could find a way to say hello her mother shouted

"Are you alright! Have you called the High Counsel of Seattle?" the shrill Boston thick accented voice of her mouth rang out from the slender phone. Dresha held it away from her ear out of fear to be driven deaf.

"Helen I'm fine, whatever it was just wanted to scare me,. No I didn't call the Counsel and don't you do so either, ok?" Dresha said as he sat among jackets and shirts on her bed and looked at the timid tiny black cat who had taken refuge in the closet. She wagged her fingers at the cat who cautiously exited the drawers and clothes and nuzzled along one of Dresha's bare calf. The high, Dresha was still feeling had caused her to focus on the small black cat with it's storm colored eyes and forget she was on the call at all.

"Sorry Helen, I was zoning out thinking about it. What were you saying," Dresha asked as she looked at the wall across from her. It was blank, the one section of her room that wasn't covered in photos or band posters. Her therapist had suggested that she create a space in her life that was blank and to focus on that when everything was too much. Today was that day, her tears wouldn't stop falling bitterly as she felt the wind on her skin. It was only the memory but it was enough to chill the blood in her veins.

"I was saying why haven't you warded your damn cave. Couldn't you move home and live with me and your father, if only for a while. We would even take your cats." Helen said against the sound of ice in a glass clinking and Dresha smiled wondering what drink had been in the glass before. A martini, a screwdriver or her father's personal favorite, a long island iced tea. The truth was she hadn't applied any magical security to her apartment because she hadn't thought she would ever need them. It was one of the first things young witches were taught, and something she had never thought she would ever need.

"You and Al have enough going on without me there, so pass." Dresha said as she spied a pack of cigarettes on the ground. She leaned down and scooped it up and grabbed a pair of shorts as she walked back to the living room.

"Can you not make this another we don't have time for you conversation. This is about your safety, you're our only daughter and you still haven't placed a single ward up in that shoe box you call an apartment." Helen's voice was somewhere between shrill and accusing and it always got under Dresha's skin. No boss at any temp job had ever had the power to upset her the way her parents did. On the porch, her cigarette lit and her high long gone Dresha watched the world below her blue painted toe nails that dangled off the balcony of her building. Her magic came from her parents and therefore any spell she cast they knew. She cringed thinking about all the different glamours she applied to her body. Her concern over the wind magic took a back seat to her embarrassment. As long as they didn't mention it she wouldn't either.

"It's not like that, I just don't want to be a burden on either of you." Dresha said in a sullen voice, her blue hair swayed as the smoke of the lit cigarette rose up to the heavens. She took a drag and thought about her parents, her mother fifty but looked thirty with blond highlights in her dark hair. She has a gymnast taut body and always wore blouses and short skirts. Al with his Polo's and cargo shorts belonged at a country club on the green teeing off with the rich and powerful. She missed his handsome face and salt and pepper beard. He gave the best hugs, Dad hugs. Even after he had caught her 16 year old self in bed with one of her teachers, he still looked at her like the father of the year. It had been him that had inspired her to fly across the country and make it for herself. If she were honest, it was her independence that had kept her from creating wards that would constantly tap into their power.

"Burden, honey you literally burned down our shed trying to raise the dead when you were six. If you weren't a burden then you won't be one now," Al's voice like a bag of rocks came over the line and Dresha placed one of her hands to her forehead. She had wanted to raise Mister Bigglesworth, her dog from the dead when it had been hit by a car. The candles had caught the rags that Al used to wax the car on fire and the shed and Mister Bigglesworth had gone up in smoke so fast. Al had felt the power course from him to her and kicked in the wooden door. He had seen her cradling the head of the massive Hound crying and coughing from the smoke. The memory was one that he was sure had caused him to go gray so early.

"Can we not talk about the past anymore for today, I know you two love to live there but today someone sent a wind ten stories up and unlocked my window to get it in," Dresha choked out unaware of when she had started crying.

"Darling, where are you?" Al asked his voice slow and filled with uncertainty. Helen's glass shattered against the wall in the background.

"She's still home Al!" Helen screamed in hysterics though Dresha couldn't figure out what had caused their parents to go off the deep end.

"Dresha, get out. If someone could unlock your window, they would have to have been in your apartment. How does Magic work?" Al shouted

"You have to visualize your intent." Dresha responded and as she turned to get up the knife plunged into her back.


	2. Nothing Good Comes Out of New Jersey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lonely human Vampire wanders into the wrong side of New Jersey. And a hipster Witch remembers how magic works

One Week Before

Jon

Thousands of people live in Seattle. One hundred of those thousands have any real magic coursing through their veins. Of those hundred most believe they are naturally lucky, or unlucky based on how the magic manifests itself inside their bodies. Sometimes magic draws positive effects from the world around the person, sometimes it brings every form of disaster. Magic is tricky like that. To the few who feels something in their life is helter skelter and makes the educated guess something isn't right with them. They look for answers, as time changes so do the means of looking for answers. 

Any magical being in the 1990's saw the film "The Craft" and found themselves in a magic shop learning how to light a wick or some parlor magic as small acts are called. In this modern age where Magic is showcased on televisions, smartphones in the many forms of media. Magical people understand what they are with a cursory Google search. From there it is anyone's guess which path they will take.  
Others are found by other magic users and learn from each other. Magic has always been stronger in the presence of other magic users, as some say Magic calls to Magic. 

This is true for the young man standing on a street corner one week before the knife plunged into Dresha's back. He stands at five foot eight inches with his sapphire blue eyes closed listening, His handsome face with it's permanent five o'clock shadow around full lips and a square jaw, He has small button nose and thick dark brows that naturally curved down at the ends attracting the eye of men and women alike but there was something that kept them back. An almost invisible wall he had created by will alone kept every passerby a few inches away from him and any before or behind him instinctively moved around him. The moment they were away from him they forgot he was there at all, which was his magic.

Jon wore a black shimmering in the daylight silk button down shirt that clung to his barrel chest and taut muscular stomach as it was tailored to do, black slacks stretched over his strong, thick legs and black leather strap sandals with brass clasps finished his attire. Sweeping long black swirls and letters written in many different languages on every part of his skin could be seen from where the short sleeves ended. From his shoulders down to his large thick pale feet. Words, in many languages are tattooed across every inch of of his cream colored skin in a disordered chaos but if someone were to skin him. They could twist and combine the words into sentences that would add up to the entire Grimoire of a set of witches long since dead.

Jon Redding, is a living spell book, handsome in appearance by effort on his part to undermine how hideous he feels his body is since the tattoos were applied on him at some point in a childhood he can not remember. He has worked out constantly, applied every skin cream, attempted laser tattoo removal, but he is still the book of spells someone wanted him to be. To him, he is still the horror someone wanted him to be. He never knew if it was the spells craving power or if it was natural for him to crave power. From that day years ago when he had been a boy of ten and beat a boy's face in with a rock after luring him away from his friends to play in a sun lit creek. 

He had acted on instinct, one moment they had been splashing water at each other and the next the blood covered rock had been in his hand. He had the uncontrollable urge to lick the stone.  
His mind filled with the harmony of voices that seemed to be singing to him from the blood of the child before him. That overwhelming hunger had burned him from the inside out and he had licked it clean of every drop of blood before he looked down at the dead boy. The police had found the boy, the official report had been a wild animal had attacked him, but no one could determine how the boy had been drained of all blood from the many bite marks.

Now years later he listened to the sound of the blood in the veins of the hundreds of people who walked past him, he thought about it. Why did whatever God existing create him this way? There was no logical answer he could think of. He had been searching all his life for someone else like him but never found another living Vampire. He had found Vampires, those living dead beings who didn't have fangs but teeth who ripped through veins and skin to drink blood.  
He had been in New Jersey when he had first heard the sound of dead blood. The sound was like a singer singing from a radio underwater. Curious he had walked down the empty street that late night. 

The cold hadn't mattered, his excitement at meeting someone else different than the humans was too great. He had let the being grab him off the street with a strength he had never felt. The brick wall met his back brutally as cold fingers gripped his long neck. He couldn't scream from the crushing grip the woman before him had on his neck. So he grinned at her, before her fist could meet his face he ignited her. His magic was always swirling inside him like lightening in a glass bottle. His intent to harm but not kill had been enough to cause every molecule in her body to work in tandem violently. The heat of it was amplified by him until seconds later the low burning fire burst from her slender arms.

Falling in a heap, her hissed screams had been satisfying to his ears so he let her burn a little longer before extinguishing the flames by calling to her molecules that acted as if they were on adereall. She rolled on the ground while he rose to his feet. His left eye brow rose as he smiled down at the suffering woman.

"The flames are out so, can we have a chat or should I Kill You?" Jon asked his patience frayed by her attack earlier. The woman, a young Spanish looking woman in a white sundress that perfectly contrasted her dark caramel skin looked at him fearfully.

"What do you want?" she asked, her accent deep and rich with heritage.

"First to know why you attacked me, second why your blood sounds wrong? Are you dying?" Jon asked rubbing his chin in thought.

"You're trespassing in a Vampire's territory, it is custom to kill on sight." the woman spoke the words with authority, Jon felt a grin tease the corners of his lips. He had never met a Vampire before, the idea maybe of finding answers appealed to him the way a child who peaked at his Christmas gifts would. He offered a hand to the woman, but she smacked it away and stood on her own.

"To your second question I am between living and dead, my blood flows slowly through my reanimated body because it is thicker now than before." the woman said to the ground. Jon nodded than realized her veiled meaning.

"Does that mean you're one of them?" Jon asked excitedly watching her face for any indication she was lying. There was none as she spoke,"I am Isabella Forlain, second in command of Tobias Mercier. We are Vampires, yes. He wants to speak with you, follow me." Isabella said and Jon shrugged and had followed her. She had hailed a taxi that brought them to an abandoned church.

The building was large and beautiful even in it's current state of disrepair. Two muscular men stood guard at the sidewalk. Both wore sunglasses that made it hard for him to see their eyes. Both wore suits and black button downs. He knew instantly they were bodyguards. The thought confirmed what he had guessed on the drive. The Vampires either were telepathic like in the movies or had some sort of hive mind where what one Vampire saw they all knew instantly.

"Coming? And it's the first not the weird Hive mind theory, that would be....gross," Isabella said with a chuckle that sounded relaxed. He didn't know what all she had seen in his mind but it was enough to realize he wasn't going to kill her or anyone else. He was annoyed with the wind being taken out of his bargaining chip but he obediently left the car. The nights in New Jersey were frigid and he pulled his jacket tighter around him as he walked past Tweedledum and Tweedledee, he had named them in his head. Infront of him Isabella laughed openly and it sounded smooth as milk chocolate to him. The two muscular statues didn't find it as funny.

"Call us that, Pipsqueak and we will break your fucking legs," Tweedledee shouted and Isabella froze. In the space of mere seconds the tension of the open courtyard shifted dramticaly.

"Since when does Muscle speak?" Isabella shouted and her voice was amplified by magic so it filled the open space. Tweedledee turned to face the street and was silent again. Without anotther word Isabella move toward the large oak doors. He found it interesting that inspite a portion of the sandstone wall to the right of the doors being broken and gone entirely half way up. The doors stood, he opened his senses and felt around the place. He didn't feel the energy of magic at all in this place. 

So it must be dumb luck he settled on that theory as the doors opened and out walked the Tobias Meicher. Jon hadn't pictured him, he had tried to keep his mind entirely blank on the car ride but looking at the Vampire before him he had to admit he hadn't pictured it.  
Tobias Meicher looked like a 13 year old Italian boy in a chocolate brown suit with wing tip shoes, complete with the dark curls, dark olive skin and pointed chin. Before he could stop himself Jon thought Tobias could cut glass with those cheekbones.

"I doubt it but I accept the compliment, and before you ask I am 700 years old." Tobias said in voice as old as the Vampire said inspite of his appearance.

"I wasn't going to ask," Jon said but of course the Vampire knew he was lying and to be honest he was already annoyed by knowing they exist. He liked his sense of superiority and having beings who could literally know him better than he knew himself left little he could use as leverage.

"i'm sorry to hear that," Tobias said, his deep voice sounding like rolling thunder and mock sadness.

"I didn't say anything," Jon exclaimed, his cheeks red with embarrassment and irritation.

"Your thoughts my dear are as loud and undignified as a water Buffalo," Tobias stated flatly

"And you look like you should be asleep in bed not rulling the undead," Jon shouted back. If they could hear anything he thought might as well say what he was thinking. The insult hung in the air between the two and Isabella who had stood at her master's side was dumbfounded.

"I could kill you where you stand," Tobias said through gritted teeth. Jon smirked and raised his arms in challenge.

"Then why don't you?" Jon retorted taking a step forward.

"Mild curiosity, same as you" Tobias said trying to sound calm but Jon heard the edge to his words.

"What about me has you curious?" Jon closed the distance, stumbling up the broken stairs. He had almost fallen twice all of this watched by two sets of large red almond shaped eyes.

"It's not every day an abomination comes to my door. Your mind for instance is locked. You're 25 but I can not see anything of age 9 or below. With any human their entire existence lives in their cells, their blood. I SHOULD BE ABLE TO SEE WHERE YOU GOT THOSE TATTOOS YOU'RE HIDING BUT I CAN NOT AND THAT...." Tobias stopped shouting when Isabella placed a hand on his shoulder. "...is troubling. Someone more powerful than even me has put a lock on you and those powers of yours. I would say you are using half of what you are capable of."

Jon was floored, of course he wondered why he couldn't remember his parents but had assumed it had to do with the spells engraved in every part of his body. Like his mind had blocked out the trauma of hours upon hours of tattoo work on his skin to make it what it Is now. The possibility that someone had deliberately locked his mind from him had never been an option. His magic was formidable, he knew he could do things naturally that others couldn't but never thought there was more. He knew after killing a person and drinking their blood he was stronger, capable of more for a short time but he needed to feed more to use more powerful spells or innate magic soon after.

"Jon let me answer your question simply as you were half right. Then you must leave and never ever come back here again. Do you promise?" Tobias asked solemnly looking Jon in the eye for the first time in their conversation.

"Why can't I stay, You know more than I do. You can teach me how to feed, how to live, please. I'm sorry for calling you a child. I NEED GUIDANCE," Jon shouted the last part desperately, the thought of being in the presence of someone who could help him find answers but being cast away was almost too much for him to bare.

"Because Magic comes from somewhere. I understand the hell this is for you and I empathize. 700 years ago a creature came to my home, butchered my family and left me for dead. I awoke in a box in the ground and had to claw my way out. I killed more people in that first night than you have in your entire life. The hunger, the need for blood was unbearable. No one taught me how to be what I am. I learned quickly to survive I had to fight, as you will. But you can not be here because whatever thing created you, its always aware of where you are. It follows you down the metaphysical link you share with it because of the magic inside of you. Any time you use magic, it knows. You were half right, any Vampire who shares my blood I can see through their minds if I choose. Its different for Witches, imagine a tree in a wood. Now imagine strings to that tree tied to a child's wrist." Tobias paused and watched Jon's face for understanding.

"The tree can always see the child," Jon stated and his blood ran cold. Tobias nodded sadly even Isabella looked away in sadness for him. Seeing inside Jon's mind had given them more then a glimpse at the broken man before them. They had seen the abuse he had suffered by the hands of those who were charged to raise him. They had watched him run from town to town every time the hunger for blood became too great and he had killed someone. They wanted to fix him but knew it was beyond their powers.

"I am truly sorry, If I could cut the bond between you and that thing I would. But I fear you would die in the process. Now, I can do two things for you. You want to know what you are. You my dear boy are a Spell Weaver. During the original Witch Trials, there were many of what you are. The story of Macbeth, those three witches. Morgana of Authorian legend. Tituba of Salem. A man in a colony known as Roanoake. All were Spell Weavers, you have the power to create new magics if you choose. I don't know how it is done, but it is a danger to be what you are. There are people who hunted down your kind and drank your blood to gain your power. They drank the Spell Weavers to extinction or so I thought, but seeing inside your mind I see the magic again for the first time in centuries." Tobias said and his voice was distant as he remembered something but Jon didn't ask.

"Do you see the line yet," Tobias asked after a moment of silence. Jon frowned and chewed on the words. All of this was too much, too fast and he knew soon they would go and he would be left with nothing. That thought made it near impossible for him to think of anything else.

"They were surrounded by death," Isabella said to Jon's confusion and Tobias nodded.

"Spell Weaver's attract conflict like honey to Bears, it is a dangerous road you walk." Tobias stated

"What's the other thing," Jon asked, his voice hallow. All of this was too much for him to take in but he had no choice. For 15 years he had wandered wanting answers and now that he had them, he only had more questions.  
"There is a place, it's hidden in plain sight where many creatures like us have gone to live. To hide ourselves away from the rest of the world. Go to Wolf Creek, Washington it's a small town on the outside of Seattle. As long as you don't use your magic you should be safe. Remember these words and leave now. Never step foot in New Jersey. I will not risk the safety of my kin for you," Tobias said and without looking back walked back into the church and the door closed behind him.

Jon stood there, tears rolling down his cheeks as his mouth hung open. For a moment he was in the presence of someone who could be his Obi Wan and just like that he was gone. He left New Jersey that night on the train into New York. He found other Vampires and spoke with them.They had had no answers for him, instead they had called him a monster. Him, he hadn't been able to believe it. But here he was like a spider on a web listening for someone whose blood sang to him the way that boy had many years ago.

The sound came in a growing den of voices to his right. He turned and inclined his head as if it would allow him to him hear it better. The voices he had learned from a vampire who had taken a chance at a conversation with him inspite of the coven deeming him an abomination had said it was Magic passed down from one generation to the next. The magic of a family line contained itself in the blood of the current magical user, to supernatural creatures like them, They could hear the history of the line in the coursing of blood through the veins of that person. Jon had discovered that drinking the blood of other Witches filled him for months. He could literally go so long without human blood if he could just have one. Jon hated killing, hated drinking blood no matter how good it felt to him in the moment. It was his nature to kill only for the sake of food, had he another way he wouldn't do it. As he listened to the voice walking towards him, his heart began to beat faster, a warmth could be felt along his skin at the feast of magic walking towards him.

A man in a suit talking animatedly on his phone moved to the left and he saw her. The large doe eyes, the ruby red hair, the full bubble gum pink lip glossed lips. The slip dress thing he hadn't seen on a woman since "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" was on tv. But what made him grin happily was the bright aura coming off Dresha giving her skin a glow humans couldn't see. His mouth watered at the sight of her and his body was wired for the fight that always comes with fighting a powerful witch. 

Like a deer who senses Danger she paused a few feet in front of him and looked this way and that. He stopped smiling, the elation turning to fretting over whether she could see through his mirror wall spell. But she continued towards him a moment later and he started toward her. He wouldn't kill her now, no not now. He liked to stalk and cause the intended to be off their game by the time he made his presence known. Fear is the best disorientate in the world. So he would cause her to feel it, and finally he would stab her and consume her power and her blood and move on. 

The singing in her veins would die in his mouth but for now, as she passed him he used his magic to see inside her skull. Her address, her job, her name instantly became his as he said in a voice only she could hear,  
"So it Begins" she stopped then, looked back. She felt the words on her skin, her mind had already forgotten them. But she felt fear prickle across her spine. She kept running through the moment before but she couldn't catch the words just the feeling of malice. 

"Get a grip girl," she thought to herself and continued on to work unaware of the man watching her from across the street or his glowing blue eyes.


	3. Friday Night Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf David Donnelly wrestles with thoughts of the past as he watches his younger sister do cheerleading at one of the high school football games. When the text to investigate the disappearance of Dresha Meeks comes, he leaves to find out what is happening in Seattle.

South of Seattle resting beside the beach that kissed the Pacific Ocean the town of Wolf's Creek lives as it has for centuries. Hidden away from the rest of the world in plain sight if you chose to look, but most didn't. The sleepy hamlet of a town is surrounded by dense forests on all the other sides. The woods are vast and deep, filled with all sorts of animals and other creatures that walk on two legs.

People know not to hunt in the Blackwoods, the nickname the Indians gave to the blackwood trees that grew strange fruit that tasted different to each person. Some said the bright red and green ball like fruit tastes like apples, others said it tasted of citrus. The creatures who walked on two legs in the Blackwoods rarely let strangers pick the fruit to see for themselves. The foolish and the brave who ventured off the paths and their protection were skinned alive and eaten. Never to be heard from again, only the woods knew of them then, old magics claimed their existence and erased them from the minds of any who cared for them. All those people felt was an ache in their minds where their loved ones used to be, and even that faded with time. Only townspeople could even go deep into the woods to find the fruit without losing their minds or worse their lives.

A small downtown area with three story buildings made of wood and brick stand tall and welcoming to all who see them made up the city of Wolf's Creek. These simple buildings painted white or red depending on who owned them had been in the town since the forties and instead of being risen up to be skyscrapers were instead tended to and cared for with the grace and adoration people give to their plants. Smaller one or two story buildings were home to the many mom and pop shops built around them was the town's body.

The buildings were whimsical in design with large clean glass windows that showed off the many inventions inside. Hand carved signs, painted in bright colors advertised the names of the businesses inside. Some were cake and other delicacies, others were wood carvings or paintings, no shop was the same and each had its own family who ran them. The families had moved to e-selling as a second form of bringing in business and trade. A stretch of suburbs built around the town move further along the coast south. If you asked a random stranger have you heard of Wolf's Creek?

The answer would be a curious or bemused No. There was nothing noteworthy about the town of Wolf's Creek. The only historical significance the town had was that once, John F. Kennedy had brought Jackie O to vacation on the pearl white beaches and swim in the crystal clear waters of the creeks. He said he had "One Hell of a Time"but wouldn't say why. Beneath the simple designed homes, all squares and flat roofs with yards that passed the home owners association standards are families who were born in the town. Inside their houses were secrets, every town has them. Things the residents experience that they don't tell their relatives in other places. Like that time the neighbors boy fell down a well and the whole town gathered around that hole in the ground and worked hard to keep him alive, anyway they could. These things happen, and people go about their lives and something unsaid becomes a secret. That easily.

In Wolf's Creek, it was the last Friday of the month. Almost the whole town was at the newly built football stadium built for the Wolf's Creek high school. The football game was in full swing. The whole town was cheering the Wolf's Creek Puritans as they ran the field against a team from a neighboring town. If you asked any citizen they would chuckle at the name of their team and go their way. Why the Puritans, cause the Town has been founded by them many years ago,they would say if pressed. The jerseys are a dark blue, their players are all built of strong stuff. The other team was lean and fast and knew how to weave in between the Puritans thick arms. It was a close game.

The light brown eyes of David Donnelly watches the teams swarm each other for the ball that had just been fumbled from his place in the centerof the stands. His olive complexion caught the light of the crescent moon making his skin almost glow. A thick beard of chocolate brown curls framed his handsome long face and small pointed jaw. He chewed the tip of his thumb between thin lips with perfect teeth. His small curved nose flared as the Puritans got the ball and their star player Devin Thomas charged down the field. He at twenty eight years old remembered what it was like to be sixteen years old, the pounds of heavy padding feeling like they weren't there at all as he charged down the field. The whole world seemed to fall away from him as hehad played for the team. The ball pressed tight to his chest as he spun around the opposing team's massive players. He could almost feel his blood in his ears the way he had then. But he wasn't here as a player, he tore his eyes from the game and focused on his little sister.

Hadley Donnelly was small for her age. Barely five foot two inches with long blonde straight hair and blue eyes the only thing they shared inlooks was their noses. She has full pink lips, a lean body with wide hips and a small chest he thanked the great spirit for every day. It kept the boys off her and on her best friend Jess Thompson. The two were inseparable. And polar opposites, Jess is tall, with bubble gum pink wavy hair and dark eyes, a voluptuous chest and a perfect hourglass figure. They wore the navy blue cheerleader uniforms and each had painted the others faces with win across their cheeks with blue glitter paint he had bought for them. He viewed Jess as he did Hadley, like little girls though lately Jess had been glancing athim a bit too long and hard and it made him uncomfortable. She would get a faraway look in those dark doe eyes as she stared at him. But he ignored it the way he ignored most things that didn't directly harm him or Hadley, With blind indifference, he ignored her not that subtle insinuations.

The way her eyes looked at him the way women in bars did. Once he noticed as Hadley was talking to her, she wasn't listening to her as he was walking through the house without a shirt on. He hadn't been aware Jess was there and come down for a glass of orange juice and froze. Hadley had kept talking about the plans they had for the morning, but Jess just watched him. Her eyes taking in his long, lean torso and the Indian tribal tattoos running down his bronze skin. Any words that Hadley had said to Jess fell at her feet, as Jess followed him the length of thetrip through the kitchen with her eyes. He had left the orange juice bottle on the counter and run up stairs and come back wearing a hoodie. In Spite of the summer heat.

As he sat in the stands he wondered if one of the main reasons of the girls friendship surviving as long as it had was her attraction to him. He hated thinking with that level of cynicism, but would never say that to his sister. Unlike him, she had never had a hard time making and maintaining friendships. But no person, girl or boy ever came to their home but Jess. Leaving those thoughts to the night air. He grinned at his sister as she noticed him looking at her and she waved. He waved back. He wondered if this was what it was like being a parent, worrying over every possible painful experience that could happen to their children. When their parents passed away in a freak storm two years ago, he had adopted Hadley. It hadn't been a choice, he refused to be separated from his sister. It had been three years since he had committed his wife to the asylum, and he was alone. David had refused for his sister to also be alone. He wasn't surprised when Jess also waved at him enthusiastically and he nodded at her but did not wave.

He remembered being a teenager, the way any kind gesture from someone he thought he loved gave him the hardest erection. Made him do the dumbest things, for a moment he thought of that stolen night at the high school with that teammate but he closed his mind to the smell of aftershave and sweat and the feel of someone else's scruff rubbing against his chin. Those blue eyes that had looked at him the way Jess did now. Biting deep into his bottom lip til he tasted his own blood, he turned back to the players on the field and away from all the other thoughts and memories he didn't want to think about. Somehow in the short time he hadn't been looking the away team had made a touchdown. The Puritans were putting up a decent fight to regain ground as the game continued. But the vibration of his Iphone in his pocket drew his attention away from it.

Fishing it out of his blue jeans pocket he saw the sender was his Chief. He tapped the large screen to open the text and saw the words.

"Dresha Meeks vanishes into thin air in her apartment. Suspected Supernatural involvement, investigate alone ASAP." there was an attachment with the details and the location of an apartment in Seattle. His brows furrowed together as he looked at the cheerleaders as they began another cheer for the boys on the field whose hearts were no longer in the game, He rose, and as he said "Excuse me"over and over he sent a text to his friend Vi asking her to pick up Hadley. On the stairs down the bleachers he sent another to Hadley apologizing for missing pizza but as he Apple Paid her fifty dollars, he told her he loved her and that she did great.

On the ground level he thought of all the games his father had missed, of the greasy twenty dollar bills slapped against his palm for burgers for the family as an apology. Even though twenty dollars for four people was rarely enough. So he always made sure to give Hadley more money then she needed just to show he cared. It was a pathetic way to show it he thought as he moved past families and friends who were enjoying the friday night game. Many people waved at him but all could see from the frown on his handsome face, it was better to save talking for later. A part of him wondered if he was just acting like his father, putting everything before his kids the way he did for Hadley whenever his job called.

"Don't go down that road, focus on the case." He told himself as he got to his large black pick up truck and unlocked it and swung himself up into the cab. Taking a moment to breathe, he opened the attachment and saw the photo of the beautiful young woman who no one had seen since Sunday. The spirit of the wolf that lived inside his body stirred as he looked at her eyes, and could see something off in the photo. Using his thumb and his forefinger he enlarged the image and saw that her eyes were magically enhanced from the almost two sets of pupils in her irises. He double tapped the image and took a long look at the woman. He suspected she was a Witch but would have to get there to find out. He set his Google Maps app for Seattle and turned the key to start the truck.


	4. WitchFight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon enacts his plan to bleed out Dresha but the tables plan as her own trap is sprung.

5 Days Before

Jon stabbed the short knife into the back of the witch he had been stalking for days. He watched the blade slip past the black t shirt and through the skin of her back. He was filled with triumph at the look of shock on her face as the blade found it's home inside her butit was the pain behind his right shoulder blade that broke the smile from his face. His face contorted into a mask of agony as the blade of the knife appeared deep in his back as if by magic. The realization of pain was crippling as fell to his knees. The hilt of the blade fell useless to the concrete patio as Dresha rose to her bare feet and looked down at him. A smile grew along her face as she walked over him.

"Surprise Bitch." he heard her sing song at him as he fell on to his back and bit back a scream at the fresh pain from the area surrounding the blade as his back pressed to the cement. He watched her skip off into the apartment as he gritted his teeth and rolled onto his stomach. He took in shallow breaths as he tried his best to understand what had just happened. His arms flailed around for any amount of the blade jutting from his back but he felt none. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He imagined his body. Imagined the intrusion of the blade in his body.

He knew it was inside his lungs from the amount of air he wasn't getting as he struggled to breathe. He had intended the blade to puncture her lung so that he would have time to eat her blood from multiple areas while she was still alive. He knew he needed to focus, needed something new to focus on as he put his thumb over his pointer finger and pressed down on it till he heard it snap out of it's socket. He shouted out against the cement. A fresh rush of adrenaline filled him as he focused on that new singular pain and not the one sending searing shocks of pain through his body. His mouth moved against the cement, he needed a healing spell and a levitation spell to work in tandem. He spoke the words in French as he focused on the blade inside his lung. It hurt worse coming up out of him as it had going in. He said one line of one spell and one of another. He intertwined the two spells while squeezing his broken finger every moment he felt himself begin to swoon and black out. Soon the blade floated above him as his body stitched itself closed. The searing heat of it was almost too much for him but he just squeezed harder on his broken finger until the burning sensatuon between his shoulders smoldered toa dull ache.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and roared in fury as he ran after Dresha into her apartment. Her cats scattered as he ran through the living room and down the hallway. He didn't bother with the bathroom as he kicked in the door to her bedroom. Soon he was standing in the center of it. His breathing heavy as he looked around the spell of ripping practically sizzling on his tongue.

"WHERE-THE FUCK ARE YOU BITCH!?" He shouted as he turned and she shoved him forward. Using his momentum against him he fell back off guard and stumbled foot over foot and smashed into what he thought was a wall but the wall never seemed to meet him. Instead he fell and fell.Behind him Dresha watched his body pitch forward through the liquid ripples of the wall that held the poster "Midnight Slasher" on it. It was as if the wall was consuming him, as he slid into it all the way down to his Black sandals. If she were honest with herself, the short beefcake was a hottie but she would be damned if she were going to be killed by an Abercrombe and Fitch model.

She followed, taking slow even steps into her spell There was something like the feeling of coming home to her as she felt the magic swirl around her body. Her skin was soaked in the metaphysical force of the spell as it swam over her. He was still falling as she dived forward, her arms at her side as she followed him into the darkness.

Jon's blue eyes fluttered open as he came to. The pain of his broken finger was gone, the minor ache in between his shoulder blades was gone as well. It was as if he was suddenly whole again. He swallowed a breath of air and tasted moisture and salt air on his tongue. The feeling of wrongness was all around him as he sat up and shook his head. The feel of his dark bangs rubbing across his forehead was the first indicator that he was changed. He raised his hands up to his face and felt his smooth skin where his beard had been. He lowered his hands and tried not to hyperventalitate as thoughts and alarm bells seemed to explode in his mind. Looking down at his long arms he saw that the black swirls and old english letters were gone from his arms. His hands were also blank of any of the spells that had been tattooed and engraved into his skin.

His mouth was ran dry, his heart slammed against his chest as he looked down at his legs and the dated pair of white tennis shoes on his feet. Whatever spell she cast had stripped him of the spells and magic he had been forced to have.

"NoNo No," he repeated as he held his hands in front of him and tried to move them to create a simple defensive spell. There was nothing, the well of magic inside his body was empty and in it's place was a barren empty feeling. Angry tears burned at the edges of his eye lids and he fought back against them.

"God,I wondered when you would try it." a familiar voice taunted him from behind him. He stood in haste and launched himself at Dresha who exploded into a wisp of smoke the moment he closed the distance between them.

"You remind me of a puppy that hasn't been kicked enough," her voice said beside his ear, so close he could feel the breath tickle it. He swung a fist at her and caught only air again.

"So angry...it's not like I violated your safe space and tried to kill you. Oh wait that's me." the menace in those words grew until the last few were shouted and a small but strong fist caught him in his guts. There was magic in the punch intensifying the force of it. He fell to his bare knees on the moist grass, coughing and sputtering as he tried to breathe around the impact of the blow to his midsection. Long thin fingers grabbed a fist full of his dark hair and yanked him up.

"This is gonna sound a bit cliché, but I'm not going to kill you just yet.I want to play with you first. It's been so long since I had a man in my room, I want to take my time and go at my own pace. That's ok right," that false innocent sounding voice said against his skin.The pain in his head burned as he reached back to get his fingers around where he thought her neck would be but it was empty again.

"Has anyone told you, Violence isn't the only way to solve a problem.Maybe you should try therapy. It worked wonders on me, I learned that if I tried hard enough, I could create magical worlds and trap people inside me, Usually it's men who can't take no for an answer, like my therapist but today its some preppy douche who thought they could kill me while I was having a personal moment with my parents. You know how rare that is I'm assuming since you've been stalking me for a while. It's ok, you thought you were clever and for a moment you were but spoiler alert not that it matters. Appearing at two temp jobs is the brightest red flag, like ever. So I started watching, and sure enough you were in so many places with me, it was obvious. So Ihave one question for you," Dresha asked coldly as she manifested directly in front of Jon.

"Do you like Scary Movies? Cause you're in one," she said and the sound of a loud chainsaw whirring to life cut off whatever witty remark Jon had been about to say. Jon turned back from the woman and saw the dark wood trees seem to open as a massive chain saw wielding man dressed like a deranged butcher come running towards him. He tore off forward towards it and Dresha's smile faltered. She had expected him to run screaming.

Anger flared through Jon, pure white hot anger set his blood on fire as he closed the distance between him and the murderous camp cafeteria worker. He'd seen the movie, knew the plot. He also knew the Lunchman was slow. He dived to the right and rolled as the whirring blade swung in a diagnol slash close to him but never tearing into his skin. Jon scrurried to the left as the blade sunk into the wet grassand dug itself deep into the ground. Jon clasped his hands together and brought his fist down on the wrist of the butcher as the killer tried to pull the chainsaw free of the ground. The killer growled athim and Jon ignored the smell and sound as he brought his arms up to do it again. If he could just get the chainsaw, he would have a fighting chance agaisnt them.

Butas he brought his fists down the blade moved up freed from the ground. The saw cut through skin, muscle and bone as blood flew intothe air. Jon screamed as the saw cut through his arms. He fell back against the wet sand and grand as Dresha walked up to stand over him.

"I have to say...You had me. I thought you were going to for sure run screaming, or take Lunchman's distraction over his saw in the ground to bash his brains in with that rock literally two steps to yourright. But you went with option C, use that Big Dick energy to overpower a monster. Way to go Bro let me give you a hand," Dresha said holding one of Jon's severed forearms out to him. Jon rolls on the ground screaming and howling in agony and Dresha grins and asks,"Too Soon, it's ok. I'll be seeing you, in your dreams Jonnyboy"as he watched her saunter off, the whirring of the chainsaw coming back to life reminded him of the deranged cafteria monster Lunch man standing, over him.

Jon gritted his teeth against the paint of losing his arms as he took a deep breath and shouted "Fuck you bitch," as the saw plunged into his chest sawing through bone and skin and deeper into his body killing him.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every other weekend, this is my first novel so let me know what you think.


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